Chapter: The Relief Effort
What a relief it was to stop worrying about battles and boarding actions that killed people and focus on just saving lives.
As expected, it was confusion on the bridge and all throughout the ship as the entire crew prepared to receive survivors and then actually started picking them up.
While we were still busy with the first phase of the rescue effort, the second corvette was retaken along with the pirate cutter still mysteriously attached to her. It seemed the corvette’s crew had barricaded themselves in engineering and the armory room and weathered the pirate storm until her still active sister ship could arrive to save the day. As best the corvette's officers could tell, during battle the cutter captain and all of her officers had been killed and so no one alive had the necessary codes to undock the cutter and make a run for it. Most of the pirates inside had been unaware of this, still under the impression the pirates were winning the battle for cold space, all the way until the jacks arrived.
But even if both corvettes and the cutter had been completely empty, there was no way the three relatively small vessels could take an appreciable fraction of the survivors from the broken settlement ship.
Fully loaded, as that settlement ship had been, she carried just under a hundred thousand settlers and all the equipment and supplies they thought they were going to need when they reached their new home.
Even with our best rescue efforts, if we saved even half of those settlers, I would have no choice but to count it as a win. Rescue operations, like medical triage, must be viewed with a 'glass half full' mentality at all times in order to maintain focus and efficiency. The pirates had done incredible damage to that ship and then sent in cutters, one by one, to load their holds with prime terraforming and manufacturing equipment while the rest of the pirates held off the defenders and continued to pick away at the escort ships.
So for the first time since losing nearly half of our crew to the Empire (some nearly eight thousand men in total) we finally saw a measurable benefit from losing all those men. The Lucky Clover once more lived up to her name sake by showing us the lucky side of the situation. The loss of so many men may have hurt our ship’s morale and its effectiveness on every level you could imagine, but it had also made room for more than eight thousand half frozen survivors who would have otherwise frozen to death or suffocated drifting in cold space.
The pirate cruiser Admiral Janeski had so thoughtfully left for us was little better than a floating death trap and still filled with loads of pirate garbage, but to the floating settlers, a death trap was head and shoulders better than waiting until your spacesuit’s life support functions ran down in the cold vacuum of the void. At least they now had a chance.
We managed to cram another almost eight thousand floaters into the captured cruiser, after we stripped enough trustworthy air recycling systems from the broken settlement ship to make sure of their air supply.
The air recycling systems were rigged and prone to failure at the first whiff of trouble, but we were running out of space to put people. Even recovering the pirate cutter the corvette had knocked out after we rammed our way through the Piranhas Formation wasn’t worth more than a drop in the bucket compared to the needs of some fifty thousands survivors.
Still, our over worked engineers patched a few holes and made the two captured cutters livable before welding them to the outside of our hull. No one wanted to trust pirate systems on a damaged ship. Who knew what kind of suicide protocols and spoiler programming had been installed into its system to activate if its captain died?
At the moment I was speaking with the captains of the two surviving settlement ships. One was a Caprian with a hold full of my countrymen on their way out to colonize some new planet, and the other was a Belter. A man from a culture that lived in orbital industrial stations, mining asteroids and small moons. Commonly called rock rats, it seemed the system these people had been in previously was nearly played out and they had been granted an Imperial charter for the start a new Belter colony further out on the rim of known space. However, the long promised Imperial escort never arrived and they had been forced to set out unprotected or lose their homesteading rights.
The broken ship, on the other hand, had been full of families from Prometheus. Prometheans were a strange lot, but Capria and Prometheus were far enough away from each other that Caprians and Prometheans generally got along when we came together. I pushed aside dark thoughts regarding the two medium cruisers that should have been in system with us but weren’t.
“I’m not sure how many more survivors we can safely take onboard our ship, Admiral,” the Captain of the Belter-ship said respectfully, the scene on his bridge only marginally less chaotic than the one on mine.
My brows lowered and the Captain of the Caprian Settler frowned at his Belter compatriot.
The Belter continued quickly, “Its not that we don’t want to take more survivors. Its just that the pirates attacked us too, you see. Not only is a settlement ship by definition filled to the brim already, but we sprung a number of air leaks during the attack. It will take time to find, fix and repair all of the leaks and in the mean time our recyclers are working overtime just to keep the people we already have alive. If we lose too much air it doesn’t matter if all the leaks are eventually patched, we’ll have too many people and too little oxygen to make it to the next port.”
At this the Caprian Captain reluctantly nodded. “My ship also experienced damage in the attack. I don’t think it's as bad for us as it is for the Belters, but he has a point.”
I stared at the desk for a moment. I was using the Admiral’s ready room for the first time since becoming Admiral in more than just name. Actually, it the first time I had ever used it. This room had always been the territory of Admiral Janeski, and being summoned here had always felt like turning in your homework to a disapproving teacher. Despite the bad memories, it had lots of room and better systems than anything else I could find on or near the bridge, and from here I could monitor multiple operations at the same time.
Right now though, all those operations were saying the same thing. There just wasn’t enough room to safely carry all the survivors. Frankly, I was getting fed up with the constant stream of protests. Who cares about safety when the alternative to a dangerous action is certain death, anyways?
“In short, what you’re saying is that even with every ship in the system we can only take on something like half the survivors,” I said flatly.
“I’m sorry, Admiral," began the Belter captain. "But if we take on any more people no one will survive the trip home. Its not food or space, although space is extremely tight. It’s the air. Without air to breath, we’ll all die.”
The Caprian nodded his agreement and looked guardedly at me. “I hate to say it but I don’t see any way either, Admiral. Maybe we can temporarily patch up some of the decks on the hulk and they can ride things out here until a ship can come back out and ferry them home.”
I shook my head in negation. “No,” I said forcefully. “Leaving them behind is a death sentence. The pirates already know there’s a wreck out here to be salvaged, like flies on road kill they’ll be back as soon as we leave. Then it's death or worse for anyone left behind on that derelict.”
“A corvette could stay behind to guard them,” suggested the Belter. “At least until a rescue effort could be mustered."
“Both Escort ships have been damaged and one was recently disabled. Besides, you’ve already been attacked once. Won’t you need both corvettes to fight off another pirate attack, if they find you again while you’re traveling to your new settlements,” I asked, trying to draw some further dialogue. I didn’t intent to make this easy for the captains of the settlement ships.
The Belter blinked. “But we thought,” he glanced at his Caprian counterpart, who kept his face blank and unhelpful, “That is to say, I had thought that since you and your Heavy Cruiser. The uh… the Lucky Clover is already here, and it seemed logical that you’d escort us the rest of the way to our new homes,” said the Belter, looking and sounding flustered.
I decided to blow some smoke in their faces to confuse them and then thread in just enough truth so that they couldn’t later complain that they had been deceived.
“This is the Flagship of a Multi-Sector Patrol Fleet and we have a duty to more than just one convoy of settlers, Captain. Maybe if the pair you didn’t already have a escort,” I trailed off regretfully. Two parts fiction and one part unpalatable fact.
The Belter looked as if he’d just bitten a lemon, while the Caprian Captain muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, “Montagne’s.”
Offended and not willing to reign myself in after I had just risked everything to save the ungrateful man’s life, I fixed him with a cold glare. The Belter glanced back and forth between his fellow captain and the myself, aware that something had passed between us. He didn’t know what it was, lacking the shared historical context, but it was obvious he could tell it wasn’t going to help.
“As it is,” I said stiffly, playing the part of the offended Admiral, which I certainly was, but not to the degree I let on, “you already have protection, so I feel it my duty to see to the needs of thousands of helpless citizens of Prometheus.”
The Caprain Captain glared at his desk but didn’t say anything further. Clearly he’d already given up on further help from a Montagne Admiral.
I felt a flare of righteous anger but throttled it silent before I said something I would later regret. Or rather, something the thousands onboard the settlement ships would later regret.
“I’m sure some workable compromise can be reached,” the Belter captain said desperately. Ignoring his Caprian counterpart and focusing solely on me. “The Corvettes have done more for us than we could have rightfully hoped, but in the last battle one was disabled and almost captured, while the other was severely damaged. If you hadn’t arrived, I shudder to think what might have happened. Please, if my colleague has somehow offend you, think about the families we are carrying instead. On behalf of the thousands of Belters crammed aboard my ship, I beg you. We desperately need your help reaching a safe port.”
The Caprian Captain was still glaring at his desk but he gave a jerky nod and looked up giving up the glare. “On behalf of thousands of your fellow Caprians, I also ask for your help, Admiral Montagne,” he said, sounding like he’d swallowed a fish bone. The Caprian Captain took a deep breath. “The fact is we need your ship, Admiral. Or something like her if we’re going to reach a world to safely put down on. As long as everyone knows the Imperial Navy has pulled out of the region, it’s open season on ships like ours,” he said, his eyes raw with emotion.
I could imagine how the man felt. Defeated royalists or triumphant parliamentarians, it didn’t matter which faction you belonged to. Back on my home world everyone blamed the Montanges. The parliamentarians for the purging of their government and the later orbital bombardment by the Imperial Navy. The royalists also blamed us for the orbital bombardment and the counter purge by the parliamentarians that followed after they returned to power with the support of the Imperials.
It had to be a bitter pill to swallow, begging the son and grandson of butchers to help save your life. For the second time in such a short period of time, no less.
“Alright,” I said, nodding slowly. “I can’t promise the Clover will escort you to your new home worlds. Or,” I paused and nodded acknowledgment to the Belter, “new home systems.” I drew in a deep breath. “But,” I said, holding up a finger, “you can accompany us on our patrol until we reach a world you consider safe enough to part from our company.”
The two captains nodded their thanks and started to smile, much of the tension disappearing instantly.
“However,” I said, lowering my finger pointedly to the desktop, “I’m still not willing to just abandon the Promethean settlers in this system.”
The still forming smiles wilted and the settlement captains looked uneasy. The conversation had come full circle without any resolution.
I started ticking points off on my fingers. “We can’t carry all the Prometheans with us for any kind of extended journey. Don’t I have that right,” I asked, alternating my gaze between the two Captains.
“Yes,” grated the Caprain Captain, no doubt once again smelling the foul odor of a Montagne in the room.
The Belter just nodded. Then decided to add, “Even more than one point transfer might be too long. It takes us a day just to cycle our engines. As it is, to take on another twenty five thousand or so refugee... I don’t know, even split between our ships, people will be packed into corridors with no room to sit or lay down. We were hot bunking in shifts before taking on the Prometheans. If they’re onboard for longer than a day, well a person can only stand for so long and when there’s children involved, logic can take a back seat to emotion. Too long and a riot is possible. Which completely ignores a breakdown in environmental and the air supply going bad, killing us all.”
“We could always dump some of your settlement equipment and make room for more people in the cargo holds,” I suggested, finally bringing the idea to the table.
“No,” exclaimed the Belter.
“Still wouldn’t solve the air problem,” the Caprain Captain said glumly, shaking his head.
“Especially not knowing that pirates could come back at anytime and steal any equipment we left here," said the Belter Captain. “Equipment we need just to live our lives, in cold space, as anything other than refugees. Admiral, my people would rather die than be reduced to such circumstances.”
“Our situation is different from the Belters. If our equipment was stolen, we would likely become another failed colony, but we’d at least still have a chance and could always come home if we failed,” said the Caprain Captain. “The Belters have no where to go back to if they fail…” he trailed off.
“That’s not strictly true,” said the Belter Captain looking deeply unhappy. “We could always return to our station of origin, as beggars instead of productive members of the interstellar community.”
“I believe I understand,” I said, cutting into the conversation. “If we can’t take them with us on a long journey and we can’t leave them,” I ignored their desperate looks, “Then that means we have to find some place,” I nodded at the Belter Captain, “within one jump range of our ships. That place must be able to support the Prometheans until such a time as someone can come back to retrieve them.”
The Caprain Captain stroked his chin and looked away from the screen while the Belter Captain frowned.
“According to the Dictates of Man," the Caprian Captain said, “landing settlers on any unclaimed world or lightly settled world, without permission of the Colonization Bureau, is claim jumping and punishable by orbital bombardment. The statute is quite specific that there are no possible extenuating circumstances.”
“The Dictates of Man,” I said, thoughtfully tapping my chin. “Those wouldn’t happen to be the 'Imperial Dictates of Man' by any chance,” I asked.
“Yes,” said the Belter doubtfully. No doubt he could sense the question was a set up and he wasn’t going to like the conclusion. “The Dictates were laid down by the Imperial Senate working in conjunction with the Triumverate."
The Caprian Captain just nodded and once again muttered something under his breath.
I suspected he’d just said “Montagne’s” again, the same as last time, but more quietly than before, but I couldn’t be sure. However, this time I didn’t blame the Captain for the sentiment.
“Well that’s a relief,” I said, wiping imaginary sweat from my brow. “Confederation Citizens are required to obey all Imperial edicts and treaties the same as if we were Imperial Citizens as set down under the Union Treaty.” The two captain’s winced in unison as if they could tell what I was about to say. “After all, under the Union Treaty we are one nation, one people. No longer Empire and Confederation, we are now dual citizens as it were under one unifying government, The Confederated Empire, with one unified military which protects each and every one of us equally,” I said raising my face to the ceiling in mock rapture, “under the law.”
Then I lowered my face to look at the two civilian captains. “The Empire of Man just took the treaty, tore it into little pieces and shredded the Confederation when they did so. In effect, they wiped their asses with the remains of the Union Treaty when they abandoned us, or rather, when they abandoned you and your ships to pirates. In effect, they said that this document and their obligations under it are as nothing to them and worth no more than the paper it was written on.”
The two captains looked on white faced as I spoke.
“The Confederated Empire’s become a joke. That is, assuming it was ever a serious concern in the first place,” I continued, carried away by the sudden rush of anger. “They pulled out and left you with me.” I looked over at Caprain Captain, “Me. A Montagne. And I’m supposed to mind the store, with nothing but an ancient battleship and barely enough men for a skeleton crew. I shook my head emphatically. “They pulled out of the Spineward Sectors because of intense fighting against the Gorgon Alliance, right? Gentlemen, the Confederation is comprised of 27 sectors. Their withdrawal broke the treaty with the whole Confederation, but they only bothered to pull Imperial assets out of eight sectors. The least developed eight sectors in the Confederated Empire, I might point out.” I slammed my fist into the table, the rising anger threatening to overwhelm me. “And what about the Ninth Provisional Sector of The Spine,” I demanded, looking at the Settlement Captains, “The 28th Provisional Sector of the Confederation was settled by Imperials from the Core Provinces and funded by a group of influential senators. How much do you want to bet that when the Empire abandoned the Spine because of ‘pressure from the Alliance’ that they failed to also pull out of the 28th Provisional.” I paused again, this time simply to catch my breath. One of the first rules of public performance, whether it be singing, athletics or public speaking, is to never allow emotion to overcome your self-control. I wasn't doing a very good job, to be honest.
“At this point there is only the Imperial Navy of The Empire of Man, and a somewhat less-than-robust Confederation presence in the Spine,” I said, suddenly wondering why I was yelling at a pair of civilian captains about this. They weren’t responsible for the current state of interstellar politics, and there was nothing they could do about it. But I shamefully admit that I still felt better for getting it off my chest.
“The Imperial Navy may abandon its people to pirates at the whim of some Triumvere sitting safely in the Imperial Capitol, but the Confederation’s Multi-Sector Patrol Fleet will never do so, at least not as long as I’m here,” I said with a measure of genuine resolve I would previously not have believed I possessed.
“So fill your ship with every Promethean you can squeeze in and spin up your star drives. We’re not leaving anyone behind to take their chances with the tender mercy of pirates. I’ll transmit new jump coordinates from the Lucky Clover as soon as they’ve been generated, so you can start with your own calculations,” I said and promptly cut the connection.
A search of the Lucky Clover’s DI database turned up little in the way of good prospects for the unfortunate Prometheans. They were already out on the rim of known space. So there were no ports of call or developed worlds in the area to take them. Perhaps there were a few black colonies scattered around out here, like in the holo-drama’s, but if so I didn't have the least idea of how to find them.
I called the Navigator, Helmsman, Science Officer, and First Officer Tremblay into my office for a round table discussion regarding our options. After dealing with the same list of arguments I had just gone through with the Settler Captains, the group settled down to discuss the list assembled by the DI.
"It's bad, Admiral," began Science Officer Jones. "Not only are we trying to retrieve information from a computer system whose database is based on fractured backup copies, but in some cases the information hasn't been updated in over a decade. Even when the records are 'complete' the information we're looking for is extremely limited. A local system defense library is obviously somewhat limited in its comprehensiveness."
I groaned silently. Yet another example of our having grown to rely too heavily on the Imperial data network which, like every other instance of former over-reliance on Imperial assets, had come back to haunt us.
"However," interjected Lieutenant Tremblay, "we have determined that there is a star system containing a habitable world within range of both the Clover and the remaining settlement ships. The information on this star system hasn't been updated in over seventy years, since before the final union between the Empire and the Confederacy." The First Officer's lip curled in annoyance. I suppose relying on information nearly as old as our Chief Engineer was more than a former Intelligence Officer could handle.
"Fortunately for us, habitable worlds don't generally go bad in less than a century," the Science Officer continued, despite Tremblay's interruption. "The inhabitants of the world are listed as primitive, hostile and limited to one continent. However, they are human, which takes a lot of the guesswork out of whether or not the world will sustain the settlers for any period of time. Worst case, we set the Prometheans down on a large island or an entirely unpopulated continent and return later to collect them."
"I don't mean to sound harsh or unsympathetic, Sir, but I would prefer to put them down on some desert world where no pirates would ever think to even look for them," said Helmsman DuPont. "At least until we can come back with a relief convoy to pick them up and transport them to their intended destination."
I shook my head, slightly pleased that I had considered this option already. "We can't even squeeze a fraction the equipment from the cargo hold of the wrecked ship, so there's no way we can bring enough of it to set up portable facilities to keep them supplied with food and other essentials long enough for us to complete a roundtrip and return with more transport ships." Tremblay grudgingly nodded his head in agreement. I continued, trying to build on the momentum. "And that assumes we don't get recalled home as soon as we hit a civilized port of call and the job gets handed to someone else who, under the best of circumstances will be less invested in seeing the operation completed than we are. That's assuming their plight doesn't get lost in some pile of paperwork somewhere and is forgotten entirely."
The discussion continued for a few more minutes, but in the end, establishing a new settlement or colony on an undeveloped world was something I had actually studied intently before landing in the Admiral’s Throne. Since I at least thought I knew what I was talking about, I was firm in my position and in the end my decision carried the day, as usual.
The Deposed King
No comments:
Post a Comment